What if Plucky Pennywhistle's Magical Menagerie
by Katy M VT
Summary: I know I said i wasn't doing these anymore, but I had to rewrite the climax scene with a bit more angst, brotherly love and protectiveness.


Sam and Dean went down to the sub-basement. They checked the room quickly to make sure nobody was there. Sam put his gun back in his pants, but Dean kept his out.

Dean went to the back of the room. There were lots of drawings of "scary things." There was a fire pit in front of it. This was obviously some kind of altar.

Sam was standing at a desk in front of the door. He was looking through papers. It didn't look like anything important. He turned around just as the door opened.

That overly cheerful clerk or whatever was standing there. He had a gun pointed at Sam. He clicked the safety off.

Dean heard the door open and a sharp click. He turned around and aimed his gun.

"Put it down."

Dean could see that the gun was aimed straight at his brother's heart. He leaned down and put the gun on the floor and put his hands up.

"Kick it over here."

Dean did so. Sam shot him a look. It was definitely a what are you doing look, but he didn't have a choice. He had been a bit too slow at reacting and didn't have a shot before the gun was clearly aimed and cocked.

"So, what, you got passed up for promotion and now you're taking it out on the customers?" Sam asked.

"Not exactly. I was hurt when I got passed over for promotion. I'm the only one who cares about those kids. I'm protecting them or their parents."

"They might not have the greatest parents in the world, but they weren't hurting them," Dean objected.

"Yes, they were. I'm the only one who has their best interests at heart."

"Watching their worst nightmare kill their father is in their best interest?" Sam asked. He had spent his whole childhood angry at his father, but he never ever had wanted to see him ripped apart by anything.

"They'll be better off in the long run," he stated confidently.

"So whose father are you killing tonight?" Dean asked.

"Nobody's. I was going to kill Tyler's mother. You know, the waitress? But, I have to take care of someone else first. I put a drawing along with something from the offender."

He showed them a picture of two clowns and Sam's business card. Sam shot a look at Dean. Dean knew that look. Sam was beyond scared.

"Look, man," he began.

That was as far as he got before the items were in the fire and two clowns appeared. One of them grabbed Sam and tossed him to the other. That one grabbed Sam and held him still, holding one arm around his neck. The other one sprayed him with his seltzer bottle.

Dean almost began to relax. If the clowns were just going to be clowns, then they weren't too dangerous. But then, the clown holding Sam shoved him to the ground and both the clowns were stomping on him with their giant feet. Dean heard the crunch of bone from where he was standing.

As he was turning back towards the clerk, he saw another drawing. He somehow knew that it was the clerk's own personal drawing.

"Is that your brother? Did he drown?"

"It was my parents' fault. They didn't listen to me when I yelled for help. I tried to save him, but it was too late. My dad yelled at me afterwards. He said it was my fault. I was the oldest. I was supposed to protect him. He said he wished I had died instead."

Dean's heart broke. He felt sorry for this guy. Or, at least he did until he heard a scream coming from Sam's direction.

Dean quickly grabbed the drawing and something off the counter which he hoped belonged to this bozo and threw it into the fire.

He watched as a little kid formed in front of him.

"I'm sorry," the clerk cried.

Soon he was choking up water. Then he was dead.

Dean turned towards the other action going on in the room. The clowns disappeared. Sam didn't move. He was lying on the floor.

Dean ran over to him and fell down next to him. "Sam! Sammy!"

He checked for a pulse and breath. He sighed in relief when he found them, but Sam's eyes were still closed and he didn't look too good.

Suddenly his eyes fluttered open. "Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy, I'm right here."

"Where are the clowns?"

"Gone. Where does it hurt?"

"I think my arm is broken and I probably have bruises all over my body, but I'll live."

"Thank God," Dean breathed.

"Dean?"

"Yeah."

"Can we stay away from any cases that have anything to do with clowns from now on?"

"You got it," Dean promised.

He looked back towards the clerk's dead body. He felt sorry for him again. It hadn't been his fault his brother had died, but he had had to live with that his whole life. And with his father's disappointment. Is this what would have happened to him if that striga had been successful all those years ago.

He turned back to Sam. He wouldn't think about that. His brother was all he had left and he was not going to lose him.

The End


End file.
